


Amorphous Amalgamation

by cuddlesome



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014), The LEGO Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coraline Fusion, And find the box that's Emmet and CRUSH IT!, Angst, F/M, Human Legos, Imagine that your brain is made of tiny boxes., Internal Conflict, Multiple Selves, Sex, Slime, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:18:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: Lucy tells the queen that she doesn’t want anything from her. No planets, no glitter. Not a thing.So Watevra doesn’t give her something. She gives her someone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by hewten's dangerstyle Coraline AU over on tumblr and I may or may not have written it with the pure intention of doing some fee-fee punching. :3
> 
> I've had this in progress for weeks and kept it under wraps. I wanted to try and finish it before I posted it but alas I suffered a corrupted file scare just now that has me going, "Heck with it, I'll start posting it now."

He has an unusual creation, he knows. Made and not born. A fully grown man of two natures rising from Queen Watevra’s amorphous slime.

 

He’s Emmet Brickowski, sweet, innocent, kind, and Rex Dangervest, the older, stronger, handsomer version. He inherited both of their best qualities and, unfortunately, he would come to learn, all of their crippling flaws—insecure, simpleminded, and dishonest, among other things.

 

The queen gives her new Systarian allies whatever it is they most wanted. And what Lucy wanted was a roguishly handsome, musclebound version of her happy-go-lucky boyfriend who was capable of protecting himself from danger. That was what Watevra told him over ice cream as her butler stood off to one side with an air of disapproval.

 

“Do you think she’ll like me?” He asked as he stirred his dessert into a thick, melty soup.

 

“Oh honey, she’s gonna love you. You’re exactly what she wants. Just be yourself and remember to smile!”

 

They laughed. It was funny because it was physically very difficult for him to make any other expression.

 

“Oh, uh, wow,” Lucy says when she sees him. “This is… he looks like Emmet, but…”

 

“Burlier?” Watevra supplies.

 

“I was going to say wrong.”

 

His smile crinkles a little at the edges. Wrong? The word crushes something fragile deep inside him.

 

“Yikes. Well, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Watevra morphs into a cheetah and scampers away.

 

“Wait,” Lucy calls out after her. “You can’t just—I can’t replace Ems with—”

 

She sighs. Runs her fingers through her cotton candy colored bangs and gives him a wary look.

 

He understands. She doesn’t want to embrace him, Watevra’s creation, and betray Emmet, the one who’s missing. 

 

His Lucy is so loyal.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “it’s not your fault, uh… what do I call you? Do you have a name?”

 

He hesitates.

 

Emmet. Rex.

 

Either name is his to take, but neither are apt. One hangs off of him and the other squeezes tight, both like ill-fitting clothes. Of the two, Rex is the most comfortable.

 

A little voice near the base of his skull whispers, I’m not, I could never be— 

 

It’s soft and weak and trembling like pudding. He is at once filled with hate for it.

 

Shut up, he thinks, squeezing his hands into fists. I know what I am.

 

The presence shrinks back and says nothing more.

 

“You can call me whatever you want,” the Other Rex says aloud to Lucy with his most dazzling smile.

 

She smiles back and he’s so pleased that he doesn’t detect the unease in her expression. If he looked closer he might have noticed she smiles like she’s almost forgotten how to. It’s too bad buttons aren’t very good to see with.

 

From that day forward, the thing that is Emmet and Rex and neither trails after Lucy everywhere she goes. Like a puppy. No, more like an overgrown mastiff.

 

She looks over her shoulder continuously. Checking on him? He hopes so. He smiles bigger than usual and waggles his eyebrows each time.

 

Yes, gorgeous. Still here. Still with you. For forever and a little bit longer after that. 

 

It’s what the Other Rex was made for.

 

Is there an Other Lucy? He wonders on occasion.

 

No, he decides. There’s only her.

 

Once in a while she will hold his hand. His heart will jump into his throat and he’ll tingle all over and the dull ache and stretch in his face will be amplified. His bigger hand all but swallows hers up. He falls in step beside her, slowing down so that she can keep up with him despite his longer legs.

 

They look out over the pinks and blues and purples of the system both parts of him despise. It’s made okay by the fact that they’re holding hands.

 

Utter euphoria. That’s what it’s like to be connected to her like this, even when her palm gets sweaty and slippery in his gloved grip.

 

He had been built to get an overwhelming rush of dopamine whenever she showed him affection. That makes it all the more frustrating when she eventually pulls her hand away. His fingers flex around empty air for a long moment before he lowers his arm. He sucks in a breath between his teeth and silently forgives her.

 

He still holds a grudge for the sufferings he endured in another life, but it’s buried deep under manufactured adoration for her. He can say “I love you” and really mean it.

 

If only he could muster that up for his ‘friends.’

 

For the most part, Lucy’s shadow tends to intimidate the inhabitants of the Systar system out of speaking with her. But the people that had known them from that time before come up without hesitation.

 

Unikitty purrs and circles around his ankle, rubbing all the way. He can’t kick her, he wasn’t created to treat ‘friends’ that way, but he thinks about it.

 

He laughs good-naturedly at Benny prattling on about spaceships while he imagines punching his helmet in.

 

Metalbeard demonstrates the newest contraption attached to his body. Why can't he do everyone a favor and trip over his piano leg on the guardrail-less ramp at the sky temple?

 

And Batman… Batman made him see red even in that other life he may or may not have lived, so maybe things haven’t really changed between them. He keeps waiting for an opportunity to ‘accidentally’ break the caped crusader’s hand. It will come eventually, but when it does it will be a poor substitute for beating him to a pulp.

 

His eye for Master Building and Breaking allow him to see every piece that makes up his ‘friends.’ He can see with perfect clarity what they would look like if he broke them down to their most basic, bloody elements. It would feel so good, so he’s frustrated beyond relief when he can never bring himself to do it.

 

When he’s around them, he breathes a little more heavily. Tiny, rapid snorts through his nose, bull-like. A vein in his forehead, hidden beneath his choppy bangs, pulsates. He salivates in anticipation of the destruction that will never happen. Beneath his smile, he seethes with rage. He can’t raise a hand to them no matter how much he wants to avenge himself.

 

It’s only Lucy’s touch on his lower back, the berry-sweet scent of her shampoo, and the promise of her looking the slightest bit happier than usual around their ‘friends’ that keeps him sane.

 

He would smash every planet in the galaxy if he could. He’d be so happy, genuinely happy, if he could just be alone with Lucy for eternity on a little rock out in space. 

 

She’d come around, eventually, and love him back.

 

Love. Ha. Does what he feels count as love?

 

The queen must have screwed up in her design somewhere, because sometimes it feels less like he’s in love with Lucy and more like he’s obsessed with her. And that makes him unhappy.

 

At the moment she isn’t happy, either. The thought reads out like a massive error message.

 

She should be. Why isn’t she? He’s supposed to be the perfect present for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sex snuck its way into the opening of this chapter oops.

That night, he tries to be the best boyfriend ever even harder than usual. They live in a house straddling the jungle and Harmony Town, far enough away from both Systarian residents and plantimals that there’s a sense of privacy. Enough that he strips in front of open windows for her without a hint of shame.

 

He had to work up to her being comfortable with sex, bit by bit over months, but it somehow came even sooner than the regular handholding.

 

The second they’re in bed he heaps attention on Lucy. Kissing her in all her favorite areas—the place where her neck meets her shoulder, the inward taper of her waist, the sensitive spot just below her navel. Teasing her breasts until they’re swollen a size bigger with arousal. Trying desperately to communicate how much he adores her.

 

Her pulse thunders when he licks a stripe up her neck. He shelters her with his body, crouched on all fours over her. From her perspective it might seem more like caging her. He is suddenly made aware of the disparity in size between them. He could crush her.

 

He rears back onto his haunches to give her space, but just as quickly finds himself drawn back by the sight between her legs. She’s sopping. He had smelled just how turned on she was for some time, but seeing the slick, gleaming evidence is something else. His stomach clenches. He had to have done something right to get her so wet. His own desire bumps up against his belly, throbbing and dripping, but he ignores it.

 

He eats her out for the better part of an hour. There’s a certain level of guilt involved in having his unshaven face scraping against her even knowing that he’s getting the same treatment with her pubic hair.

 

Her thighs shudder against his ears and she arches her back the slightest bit off of the mattress every time that she cums. It’s around the fifth time that he feels these subtle cues that he finally sits up and touches himself. His dick is purpling by now and horribly sensitive. One stroke, two, and he’s splattering semen all over her freckle-dusted breasts.

 

Orgasming provides temporary relief from his feelings of concern and doubt, but it’s all too brief.

 

He goes to the restroom to get a quick wash in front of the sink. He inspects himself in the mirror and picks a fuchsia hair out from between a canine and an incisor before returning to Lucy with a warm, damp washcloth.

 

She sighs as he gently cleans her up, mopping away sticky cum and sweat and saliva. She still looks sad. He doesn’t understand.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he rubs the undersides of her breasts a little longer than strictly necessary.

 

In what feels to him like a non-sequitur, she turns and says, “You don’t have to keep pretending to be in high spirits all the time, you know.”

 

“I’m not pretending.” He lets out a staccato burst of laughter as he tosses the damp cloth, now cold, in the general direction of the bathroom.

 

He sits down on the bed, causing the bedsprings to give a protesting creak beneath his weight. The creaks continue as he scoots close to her. She hesitates, then touches his cheek. Her fingertips tickle a little when she brushes them over his stubble. He leans into her touch, but tenses a little when a fingernail inadvertently clicks against one of his button eyes.

 

Lucy withdraws her hand at once. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

 

Her concern is so endearing. “It didn’t hurt, just surprised me. Please don’t worry.”

 

She narrows her eyes.

 

“Don’t pull that. I know you.” (Does she really?) “You’re upset.”

 

He knows exactly what she’s talking about—for a moment his blood is at its boiling point thinking about his ‘friends’—but he avoids the accusation. “I mean it, it didn’t—”

 

“I mean in general.”

 

She’s turning the tables on him and he has no idea what to do about it.

 

He hesitates before grinding out, “And what if I am?”

 

“If you feel bad, you could at least stop smiling all the time,” she touches his thigh, then her hand migrates to his hip upon further consideration. “Doesn’t your face hurt?”

 

Oh, it’s agony. The muscles in his face have to be just as strong if not stronger than the rest of his brawny body at this point. But he can’t stop. He’s caught between not being able to lie and not being able to say anything negative, so he says nothing. He just chuckles and scoops her hand up in his.

 

She whispers his name in a strange way, like it doesn’t belong to him.

 

He works his jaw. “I’m happy. And I would be even happier if I could make you feel the same way.”

 

She pulls her hand away and his heart fractures. “That’s sweet, but—”

 

“But what? What is it? What’s wrong with me?” The words burst out as he clutches at his arms, fighting the rising urge to Master Break something. “Is it my voice? Am I not tough enough? Do you think I’m ugly? I can ask the queen to change my form and fix all of those things.”

 

She’s staring at him with rising horror now. He can’t stop talking, venting what’s been on his mind since his creation.

 

“What do you want? What do I have to be to make you stop looking at me like that? More muscle? More fat? Less of everything? I can be skin and bones if you’d love me!” His permanent smile hurts now more than ever. “Please. My only purpose is to make you happy.”

 

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You don’t need to change for me. It’s okay.”

 

He pulls back. Touches the spot where she’d kissed him. Were it possible, his eyes would burn with hot tears.

 

He can’t take his feelings out on her. He could never.

 

After she’s asleep, he redresses and goes out to the jungle. Just a nightly stroll with the potential for some conflict.

 

The first plantimal he finds is a scrubby tentacleless one that probably couldn’t hurt him if it tried. That doesn’t stop it from putting on the goo-goo eyes and letting out a burbling noise.

 

For the briefest second he hesitates, just like he does with his ‘friends.’ Then he snatches the creature up with a tight grasp on its leafy purple middle and holds it aloft, ignoring its squeaking protests.

 

“Sure would be sad if something were to happen to this little guy,” he announces.

 

He squeezes the creature until its already big eyes bulge out a little more. It lets out a piteous wail.

 

He runs his tongue over his teeth. “That’s right, call your buddies for me.”

 

The clearing goes from having one plantimal to a veritable tribe of them in seconds. The Other Rex tosses the small one in his grasp aside and locks eyes with the largest, angriest-looking beast.

 

“I’m in a really bad mood, so you’d better make this fun.”


End file.
